


There's No Such Thing As Miracles

by TeamWincestiel27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death in later Chapter, M/M, Multi, Murder, Rape, but not major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamWincestiel27/pseuds/TeamWincestiel27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gadreel and Castiel sneak into Heaven they can't find the angel tablet because Metatron has it with him. What they find instead is what's left of Castiel's grace. Castiel takes it, but isn't completely angel still.<br/>When Metatron returns from Earth and discovers that Hannah let the prisoners escape and in fact helped them, he attempts to kill her. Castiel uses his meager power to transport them both back to Earth, but is left weak.<br/>Weeks later, after hearing nothing from the Winchesters he convinces Hannah to search for them with him. They are ambushed by demon brothers and Castiel distracts them so Hannah can get away. The Winchesters are happy to have a new pet to play with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"Where is it?" Castiel asked, a none too subtle hint of danger in his voice.

"I-It's not here!" the angel cried. Hannah let her angel blade press just a little deeper into his throat.

"What do you mean it isn't here?"

"Metatron! He took it with him!" Castiel and Hannah exchanged worried glances. "Can I go now...?"

Hannah looked at Castiel for confirmation. He nodded and she took the angel away. Castiel looked slowly around Metatron's office, getting more and more frantic, but not wanting to miss anything. It had to be here.  


He walked quickly to the desk and lifted the top off the old typewriter, but what he found inside was not the angel tablet. It was a single glass bottle with a small amount of glowing blue energy: Castiel's Grace. There could be no more than a tablespoon left and Castiel stared in disbelief. Metatron had taken the angel tablet with him, but had left Castiel's grace unattended? It was too good to be true and he thought maybe it was a trick, some other angels Grace in the bottle, but he could feel it. This was his Grace and it called to him, sent a thrumming through his bones like all it wanted was to come home.  


He yanked the stopper off the bottle and inhaled greedily. It felt so good to have his Grace back where it belonged. Like fire and life and sunlight.

A rush of air told Castiel that he was no longer alone in the office. Metatron had returned.

"I see you and Gadreel found the gift I left for you. A consolation prize."

"Gadreel is dead." Castiel glared.

"Ah." Metatron let out a sigh. "So Gadreel bites the dust. Your friend and brother is dead along with countless other angels and for what?" Castiel stared at the floor resolutely. "Oh, that's right, to save Dean Winchester." Castiel's eyes snapped back up at Dean's name and he held Metatron's gaze wearily as he continued his speech. "That was your goal, right? You draped yourself in the flight of heaven but, ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Well guess what? He's dead, too."

Castiel felt as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Dean was dead. All because of him. He hadn't been fast enough or smart enough and now Dean was gone. He had failed.

"CASTIEL!"

Hannah rushed back into the room, a group of angels behind her, looks of fear and determination set on all their faces.

"Oh! Look who it is! My favorite turncoat." Metatron seethed. "You know, you have no loyalty, Hannah. You run out on Castiel the first chance you get and now here you are betraying me and my trust. I'm hurt." He looked out at the small crowd of angels gathered in his office.  


"I want you all to listen very clearly. Any angel that defies my orders will not make it out of this room alive. Kill the traitors."

No one moved. One angel glanced back and forth between Metatron and Hannah, shaking his head. Metron heaved an exasperated sigh. "I really didn't want to have to do this." he snapped his fingers and the angel burst, splattering blood across the room. "I said, 'Kill the traitors' and I meant do it NOW!"  
The angels pulled out their blades all at once, advancing slowly.

"Hannah!" Castiel shouted and leaped over the desk. He grabbed her by the hand and with all his might and energy and what little Grace he had left he transported the two of them out of Heaven.

He lands heavily on soft grass, his head reeling. He coughs once, twice, tastes blood, and then darkness.

 

Somewhere in New York Dean Winchester takes his final breath.


	2. Rescued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tread carefully from here on out. It's very graphic and violent and there's object rape and Castiel has terrible things happening to him.
> 
> Flashbacks are in italics so if you don't need to know the dirty deets of what the Winchester's did to Cas you can skip that it's not plot relevant other than bad things happen.

The bunker was quiet, the Winchesters having left him hours ago. And yet Castiel still lay motionless on the floor of the dungeon, body bruised and bloody, too scared to move and make the chains around his neck and limbs clink together. Too afraid to breathe deep enough to get the air he needed, though his lungs cried out with every shallow breath he took.

  
It had been weeks now. Weeks of this daily abuse from the Winchester brothers, each session getting more violent and more...creative. It had started simple enough. Dean and Sam each taking turns satisfying their basic needs with Castiel as their tool of choice.  
He wished it would go back to being as simple as that.  


But they soon became bored of normal sex and started bringing what they called "toys". Whips, rope, knives, they had even brought guns a few times and the things they had done to him with those...

  
A shiver rocked through the angels body and he blanched. Finally, the cold stone floor digging into his boney frame was too much and he sat up, wings falling tiredly to his sides. He still wasn't sure exactly how Sam had figured out how to bring his wings out, but with the Enochian symbols they'd carved into the chains he was powerless and couldn't put them away. Both brothers had used that to their advantage, nailing him to the wall by them on one occasion. Pulling out feathers and putting them places they didnt belong on another.

  
Suddenly there were footsetps outside the door of the dungeon. Castiel sat bolt upright, eyes wide, ears straining. How long had he been sitting here? Was it morning already? Or were these new demon Winchesters nocturnal? Did they even sleep at all? He suddenly realized he'd lost all concept of time in this room.  
Lights came on in the room and Castiel remained still. Hoping beyond hope that whichever brother was in the room came in for a file. That he wouldn't open the shelves. That he woudn't walk in to the room where Castiel sat motionless and helpless and terrified...  


The sound of metal against concrete made him jump and the shelves slid slowly outward. A small whimper left Castiels mouth, but he wasnt aware of it. His body began to shake violently.

  
No...he thought weakly. Not this time. No I can't do this again. His chest heaved and his eyes watered and he wondered if maybe he could wrap the chain around his neck tight enough to end it before Sam or Dean could touch him again. Or maybe there was a sharp bit of metal and he could slice his arms open and bleed out or maybe-  


The shelves slid open all the way and Castiel scrambled backwards over the cold stone, wings lifting weakly to shield himself. "No...no...no..." he sobbed quietly as he backed away. His back hit the wall and he drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his tattered wings around his naked and defenseless body, and rocked.

  
"...no no n-no no..."

  
Footsteps. Echoing heavy all around him. Someone says his name.

  
"No please..." Castiel begs, but doesn't look up.

  
More footsteps. A hand slips past his wings, grasps his shoulder. He jerks, scrambles sideways, hands are grabbing his wrists holding him in place. He kicks, but strikes nothing. Suddenly there is a weight on top of him, pinning his hips to the floor and the chain from his collar digs painfully into his back.

  
"Castiel, stop! It's me!"

  
That voice...

  
Castiel begins to still and opens his eyes tentatively. Above him is a feminine form, dark hair long and soft cascading down.

"H-hannah?" he chokes.

"Yes, Castiel, it's me. We're getting you out of here. Can you stand?"

Castiel bites his lip and nods silently. Hannah releases him and begins working on the chains. The Enochian symbols keep her from just disintegrating them off, so she has to pick the locks the old fashioned way. It's slow work and both angels remain silent while she works. The last lock releases and the collar clatters to the dungeon floor.  


Hannah throws one battered arm over her shoulder. "Brace yourself, brother." And then they're gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
_Castiel's dreams are filled with terror. Cold iron and hot leather raking down his body in almost rythmic time. Cruel laughter, black eyes. He's on his back, wrists pinned above him and knees to his chest, a Winchester at his head and a Winchester at his feet. Dean cocks his pistol and leans over Castiel's face, caressing him with the barrel of the gun. Castiel can feel another gun drawing lines over his legs and getting rougher, more impatient._

  
_Suddenly, Dean's gun is in his mouth and his finger is on the trigger. Castiel is almost hopeful that, maybe, this time he'll really do it. Then pain. Sharp and all consuming. Sam had put the other gun to use and was pumping it in and out at a fast pace. Dean matched Sam's pace, choking Castiel on the gun._

  
_Castiel couldn't see, but he knew what their other hands were doing. He can't move, he can't breathe and it hurts so much, but he can't cry out or twist away. He feels something hot and sticky splash on his legs and abdomen, then his shoulders and chest. The pumping of the guns stop, but they remain inside of him._  
 _Sam is crawling over him and leaning down over his face. He's saying something, but Castiel can't register it anymore. Doesn't care._

  
_Sam sits up, takes Dean's lips in his own, and snakes his tongue in and out._

  
_Castiel only lays there, tears rolling down his cheeks and splashing on the cold floor._

  
_It wasn't supposed to end this way._

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Castiel wakes screaming. Tears stream down his face, his breathe comes in great gasps and his body is shaking violently.  
Hannah is above him, concern glistening in her eyes. "Castiel! Please wake up!"

Castiel relaxes slightly, chokes on a sob, swallows it down. "Hannah...where are we?" For the first time he begins to take in his surroundings. Above him is a white cieling, darkened with night. The walls seem to be white as well, though the moon casts a silvery-blue sheen on them. He is on a bed, soft down comfortor cradling him gently, a pillow beneath his head. He is still naked.

The female bodied angel picks up on his discomfort immediately. "I apologize." She says and glances away. "I did not have time to locate you any replacement clothing." She stands up from her position beside Castiel and walks to the closet. She spends a few moments rummaging before she comes back, a bundle of clothing in her hands. "These should be sufficient."

Castiel nods and begins to sit up when suddenly his body is wracked with pain. He falls back on the bed with a muffled thud. He groans. "Why...why haven't you healed me?" he rasps.

  
"I tried." She stares at her brother, worry written on her face. "Some of the wounds would heal. Others...would not. I don't know what they did to you Castiel, but it is beyond my power to heal. Your vessels body will have to heal itself with time."

Castiel can feel panic rising in his throat. He pushes it down and nods his understanding. He attempts to sit up again, more slowly this time. He succeeds, but not without great pain and a few choice words in Enochian.

  
Hannah helps him dress, gently lifting an arm or a leg here and there. It's at this point Castiel realizes that his wings have finally vanished. For so long they had been out and had felt so heavy, he missed the weight. They had become something of a comfort to him and he felt too light, too exposed without them. Once his shirt was on he used his grace to cut holes in the back and thread his wings through. They looked no better than when Hannah had come to his rescue. They were beaten bloody and ragged. Hannah's gasp of shock was almost imperceptible, but he heard it.

"I hadn't noticed before...they're..." she fell silent, not knowing what to say. She reached out a tentative hand to touch them, barley brushed a single feather.

"NO!"

Castiel yanked his wings around himself forcefully. Hannah jumped back, startled.

"I'm...sorry." Castiel said quietly. "Please...refrain from touching them in the future."

Hannah nodded solemnly. Castiel laid back down on the bed and turned his back to her. They were silent the remainder of the night.


	3. Hidden

_Everything was blurred. Was that blood in his eyes, or tears? Probably both. He could hear laughing behind him as he crawled away, heavy chains weighing him down._

_"He thinks he can get away, Sammy."_

_Cold laughter._

_"We'll just have to teach him what trying to run away gets him, won't we, babe?"_

_"I couldn't agree more."_

_Someone grabbed his ankle and pulled him back. He clawed uselessly at the cement floor, breaking nails and leaving trails of blood. Then there was a hand in his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat. A tongue snaked out and licked a slow trail from his adam's apple to his eye. It's Dean, he thinks, but he can't be sure anymore. He feels the cool metal of a blade trailing down his spine and he shivers._

_"I think I'm really gonna enjoy watching Sammy cut you up, Cas. It's been awhile since I've seen anyone get cut up. And then, when he's done, it's gonna be my turn."_

  
_The blade sank into his skin._

  
_He screamed, and pain wasn't the only reason for it._

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Castiel awoke to sunlight playing on his face, making spots dance behind his eyelids. He groaned and opened his eyes slowly. The room was just as it was the night before. He sat up gingerly, remembering his aching body and slow healing wounds, and looked around. Hannah sat in a chair in the corner of the room, reading an old looking book. He moved to stand and Hannah looked up from her book.

  
"You should not exert yourself too much, Castiel. Remember you are nearly human still. You need rest."

"I am still part angel. And my Grace is no longer fading. I'll be fine." he said curtly.

  
She pressed on. "I understand that, but your Grace will not replenish. You have to treat yourself as if you were human now. You don't have enough Grace to push yourself like you once did."

  
Castiel glared at the ground. Half human, half angel, he might as well be Nephilim. If only he were as strong. He gripped the bed tightly and drew a shaking breath before looking at Hannah with sunken eyes. She stared back, unflinching.

  
Finally, she broke the silence. "Connecticut." she said.

  
Castiel furrowed his brow, uncomprehending.

  
"You asked last night where we were and I never answered. We're in Greenwitch, Connecticut."

  
Castiel nodded and stood up. He immidiately collapsed against the wall, his head spinning. He braced himself and managed to keep himself from falling all the way to the floor, just barely. Hannah was there in moments, taking some of his weight and keeping him upright.

  
"What is it? Is it your wounds?" she asked.

  
"I believe I am feeling the affects of acute hunger. It has been several weeks since I last ate." The room tilted again slightly and he swayed. "An unfortunate side effect of only being partially angel."

  
"Right. Let's get you some food then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Hannah was not a good cook. She had tried to make eggs and bacon, a standard human breakfast, but had only succeeded in blackening everything and nearly choking them both on the smoke. Castiel settled for cereal and milk.

  
He felt better after eating and now that the dizziness was gone he excused himself from a very embarrassed Hannah and went to the bathroom to check his wounds. Most of his pain seemed to be stemming from his abdomen, so he lifted his shirt carefully and looked in the mirror. He was heavily bruised and had several deep gashes on his ribs and stomach. He remembered some of them, the ones they had made him watch happen.

  
The deepest one, just under his ribs on his left side, was made by his own angel blade and was tender to the touch. Sam had taken his time with that one, pressing in slowly and dragging out Castiel's screams with deliberate strokes.

  
He shuddered and tried to slough off the memory, checking that the gash was healing properly. It was raw and painful, but it wasn't bleeding and didn't look infected. He still wasn't sure how much of human life he was susceptible to and if he could even get an infection, but it was better to be safe.

  
What he couldn't figure out was why certain wounds couldn't be healed by Hannah. What exactly had the Winchester's done to him?

  
He put his shirt back down, satisfied that he wasn't in any immediate danger, and inspected his wings more closely. They were matted and caked with blood in places and they ached to move, but it seemed like they were mostly healed. He recalled his outburst from the previous night and felt guilty for lashing out at his sister, but the Winchesters had done a number on his wings. Dean in particular had found them fascinating. He didn't think he could ever let anyone touch his wings again, not for a long time.

  
He leaned against the sink and looked in the mirror. His eyes were hollow, his cheeks sunken in and his skin sallow. It was all too much to take in at once. His battered body, the nightmares, his wings.

  
His breathing became shallow and his face felt hot. He stumbled back, retreating from the mirror, but it only served to give him a fuller view of his thin and mangled body. His hands clenched and his eyes pricked, but he couldn't look away. He felt so vulnerable and weak and he felt so guilty.

  
_You had the chance to save him and you didn't._

  
It was his fault.

  
_He needed you and you weren't there._

  
He deserved this.

  
_Everything they did to you was because of what you **didn't** do for them._

  
He deserved worse.

  
_You're worthless. You're pathetic. Just look at you._

  
Hannah heard the sound of glass shattering and rushed to the bathroom to find Castiel hunched in front of a shattered mirror, a bloody fist in the sink, still trembling.

  
"Castiel, what-?"

  
"It's my fault." he growled. "Everything. It's all my fault."

  
He sank to the ground, wrapping his wings around him. How long he sat there he couldn't be sure. Time slipped by seamlessly as he stared at his hands. It could have been seconds or hourse later when he heard Hannah speak.

  
"It isn't your fault." She took a tentative step toward the heap of angel on the floor. "You did everything you could. You don't owe those boys anything. You've already given too much."

  
Castiel just curled in on himself more. "Just go." he said and Hannahs footsetps signaled to him that she had obeyed.

  
He didn't move again until his legs had begun to cramp and go numb. He moved from the bathroom to his bed and layed down. He was in for another restless night. He could feel it.


	4. Found

For two weeks Castiel and Hannah were safe, but Castiel was restless.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing, Hannah!"

She gave him a sympathetic look, but crossed her arms resolutely.

"And what would you have us do? We are hunted, Castiel, and you are not strong enough to defend yourself and I cannot fight for both of us."

Castiel growled in frustration, his wings flaring. He took a step towards his companion that, had she not known him better, would have seemed threatening.

"I have to find them."

Hannah's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. Was he insane? 

"You're joking. You want to find the Winchesters? For what purpose, Castiel, what good could come of that?"

He took another step closer, held her gaze, eyes pleading. "I can save them."

The slap was unexpected. It wasn't that it hurt so much as it startled him. He reeled back, hand on his cheek, eyes wide with confusion. Hannah was there, inches away, fuming.

"After everything they did to you? After what happened last time?" her voice was low and dangerous. A tone Castiel had never heard her use before. She grabbed his shirt collar and held him in place. Suddenly, he was quite sure he should be frightened. "I have listened to you wake up screaming every night for weeks. I have seen the tears in your eyes and I have seen you lose yourself more than once because of things you can't even talk about. You have wounds that still have not healed and you cannot keep your wings away without panicking." She shook him slightly, and gestured to his wings, which were currently limp beside him, for emphasis. "And in spite of all of this you want to seek them out and save them? Have you lost your mind?"

Castiel let out a shaky breath. Being this close to Hannah, especially when she was enraged, it was all too familiar to him, but served to drive her point home. He wasn't sure if that might be intentional. He reached up and placed a hand on her wrist to push her away, get more room to breath, but she was much stronger than him now.

"It wasn't them." his voice shook and his body trembled, but he continued. "They cared for me once. As a friend, as family. Maybe...maybe more than that." Hannah's brow furrowed in confusion and she cocked her head to the side. "What's happened to them...this disease that's taken over has twisted those feelings. Made them dark. But I can save them, bring them back to me."

Hannah looked at him with something like a mix of pity and disbelief. Her vice-like grip on his shirt loosened. "You know this to be true?"

"It's what I choose to believe."

They stayed like that for a moment before Hannah sighed and released him. She turned her back to him. "I cannot allow you to put yourself at risk. I won't." and she walked away, leaving Castiel to his thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_It was always worse when they made him want it. When they had him keening and moaning and begging for release. That always made him feel dirty._

_They were standing and him sandwiched between them. Dean was behind him, one arm around his throat keeping him in place, fingering him slowly and every once in awhile just barely brushing that sweet spot. Sam was in front of him, stroking himself and watching with lust filled, blackened eyes._

_He could feel Dean's breath on his neck. Hot and thick._

_"Come on, angel. I know you want it. Beg for it."_

_Castiel whined, but said nothing and Dean curled his fingers, adding just enough pressure to make Castiel cry out in pleasure._

_"I said beg." Dean growled and released the pressure, going back to his slow rythm._

_"Please..." Castiel panted, "please, Dean, I need it."_

_Dean laughed, low and harsh. "That's right." he said. "You're my little angel-slut, aren't ya?"_

_Castiel bit his lip._

_"Aren't you?"_

_"Y-yes."_

_"Good boy."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel awoke drenched in sweat, tangled in the sheets and panting. To his horror, he could feel that he was hard. He stared at the ceiling, just starting to blue with the first light of dawn, and willed it to go away.

He laid there until the first threads of gold weaved their way through his window. He stood, got dressed, and began walking towards the kitchen, when he stopped. The entire house was dead quiet, which was odd because Hannah didn't sleep and was always doing something around the house to keep her occupied.

Something was wrong.

He bolted from his room and down the hall into Hannah's, but she wasn't there. Nor was she in the spare bedroom or the bathroom. He reeled around and made for the kitchen, panic roiling in his chest and turning his stomach over. He crossed the threshold and looked around frantically.

Hanna was there, sitting at the kitchen table.

Castiel was about to breath a sigh of relief when she tuned her head to look at him, fear evident on her face and glinting in her eyes. It was then that he noticed movement behind her. A lithe figure detached itself from the shadows and stalked slowly forward. Castiel's eyes traveled slowly up from faded denim jeans to the archaic looking dagger in the figures hand, to the age-worn leather jacket, and, finally, tar-black eyes shadowed with violent lust.

Dean.

"Look who we finally found." He said, a gleeful sneer playing across his face. 

"Doesn't look like our pet is too happy to see us, Dean."

That voice had come from behind Castiel, and the pit that had been growing in his stomach deepened and his body went cold. That was definitely Sam.

"No he doesn't, Sammy." Dean said taking a step closer to Hannah. "I think it's because this angel-bitch stole him from us."

Castiel's terror kept him rooted in place, but he still spoke up. "Leave her alone." It was less of a command and more of a desperate plea.

"See, I think once we get rid of her..." he lifted the blade and gently used it to move Hannah's bangs out of her eyes. "...you won't have anyone else that cares enough to take you away from us again."

Hannah closed her eyes for a moment, holding back sob. She opened them again, looked at Castiel and whispered:

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up!" Dean shouted, and his fist collided with the side of her head. She went limp and fell to the ground. Dean lifted his head and rolled his neck before directing his attention back to Castiel. "Be a good boy now, Cas, and there might be a reward for you when you get to your new home."

Castiel stared, uncomprehending. "W-what-?"

"Hell, baby. We got a good thing goin' while you were out with your new BFF. Got some big plans for you, too."

Castiel shook his head. "No. Crowley would never-"

From behind him, Sam spoke up again. "There's been...a regime change." and Castiel could hear the grin in his voice and it felt like ice water was trickling down his spine.

"Well," Dean said. "As lovely as this whole little reunion has been I think it's about time we got movin'." He looked pointedly behind Castiel. "Sam."

Sam grabbed Castiel's arms and held him in place, at the same time Dean was grabbing Hannah's hair and yanking her head back. She groaned a little, just barely at the edge of consciousness. Castiel struggled frantically in Sam's grasp, but it was no use.

"No!" he screamed, just as Dean plunged the blade high up into her chest. "HANNAH!" There was a blinding flash, and then Hannah was gone. Dean dropped her body and it hit the linoleum with a sickening thud. Castiel continued to struggle, though it was too late. Dean looked him up and down, then looked back to Sam. 

"Knock him out. I don't want him tryin' to run all over the pace."

And then Castiel was free for a split second until something heavy hit his head. He collapsed to the floor, face to face with an empty eyed Hannah. Then everything went black.


	5. Captured

_Castiel dreamed and remembered the day he and Hannah had fled Heaven. Transporting them away had nearly killed him with the amount of energy it had used. He had woken up on a bed in a motel with Hannah sitting next to him, gently dabbing his face with a cool washcloth._

  
_"I healed you." She said. "But you still seemed feverish. I think it's passed now."_

  
_Castiel sat up. "Thank you, sister, but I can't stay. I have something I need to do."_

  
_Hannah's face became stern. "We are currently 'Heaven's Most Wanted' and you want to traipse around the country looking for the Winchesters?"_

  
_Castiel turned to look at her, brow furrowing. "How did you-?"_

_"It's obvious, Castiel. There's nothing more important to you than those boys. But I think it's best if you let them find you."_

  
_He struggled with that for a moment, torn between looking for his friends and staying hidden. Finally, he decided that if Dean really was dead, he couldn't do anything about it. If Sam needed him, he would find him. And if Metatron had lied and Dean was alive...then he was sure the boys would be fine._

  
_"Fine." he said curtly._

  
_Hannah nodded, satisfied._

  
_Castiel was content, at first, to remain with Hannah until the Winchesters came to retrieve him or contacted him in some way, but the weeks passed by with neither hide nor hair of the Winchesters and Castiel began to get restless. Finally, three weeks after their initial flight, he couldn't take it anymore._

  
_"Hannah, please. I need to look for them."_

  
_She was reluctant. "I don't believe that is wise, Castiel."_

  
_"I understand. But sometimes what is wise isnt what is right. You should know that by now."_

  
_She was quiet for a moment, and she stared into him as if looking for any sign of falter to latch onto, but he met her gaze with equal intensity. She heaved a sigh._   
_"Alright. But we're going to lay low. Where to first?"_

  
_"Their bunker." he said. "That's the closest thing they have to a home and it's relatively safe. If they aren't there, I'm sure there are clues to where they might have gone."_

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
_When they get to the bunker Castiel is aprehensive. He pulls up slowly to the front door and parks the car. Hannah glances at him._

  
_"This is the place they call home?"_

  
_Castiel nods._

  
_"It seems...cold." she says._

  
_Castiel says nothing as he gets out of the car and Hannah follows quickly. He approaches the door cautiously, and places a hand on the handle. The door nudges in slightly; it's unlocked, and open. Castiel swallows dryly and looks at Hannah pointedly. She nods, understanding the need for silence. They enter silently, Castiel first._

  
_The bunker is a mess. Papers and books strewn everywhere, tables overturned and shattered glass decorating the floor. The mess seems to continue into the hallway, towards the dungeon, and they follow it. The dungeon is in no better shape with shelves empty and the doors to the actual holding room hanging limply from the hinges. With no further clues they leave the dungeon and make way for the bedrooms. Dean's room is surprisingly clean. No fuss, no mess, but Sam's is a disaster. The door is hacked to pieces to start, and the room looks like a hurricane hit it, aside from one detail: blood. Blood was splattered around the room, not in large quantities, just enough to be disconcerting. There was also a dried pool of it on the bed. Castiel's heart sank and his chest tightened. He gripped the wall to steady himself; he felt sick._

  
_Hannah placed a gently hand on his shoulder and led him back to the study room._

  
_"Hey, Cas." Came a gruff voice from the only table that hadn't been overturned. Castiel looked up, hopeful._

  
_Dean was leaning against the table, arms crossed, looking bored. Castiel's heart leaped and he nearly ran over to the man and hugged him, but Hannah's hand remained on his shoulder, gripping tight. She looked nervous._

  
_"Something's not right..." she said quietly._

  
_Castiel ignored her. "Dean." he breathed. "I thought you were dead. That I had been too late."_

  
_Dean smiled, eyes glinting dangerously. "You were." he blinked, and his eyes were black._

  
_Castiel's hopeful smiled faded instantly and he stepped back. "No..."_

  
_"Oh, yes." Dean said. "I should really thank you, Cas. I'm really enjoying Dean 2.0" he detached himself from the table and began stalking towards the angels._

  
_"Then the blood. You-...Sam..." he thought back. Sam couldn't be dead, there hadn't been enough blood for that. "What have you done with him?"_

  
_"Oh, Sammy? He's just fine. In fact, he's better than ever."_

  
_From the shadows behind Dean a tall, muscular figured materialized, taking slow and steady strides. It stepped into the light and the shadows melted off it's face. Sam stood there, smiling softly, his eyes black as tar and laser focused on Castiel._

  
_"The blood you saw," Dean continued, "was mine."_

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Now Castiel groaned awake, his head throbbing and his body heavy. He opened his eyes and looked around blearily. He was on cobblestone ground in what appeared to be a large prison cell with a barred door leading into a stony hallway. Looking around his cell he saw chains attatched to the walls and floor, some hanging from the ceiling, too, and he started to tremble.

  
He stood slowly, clutching his head, and began looking for a way out, though he knew there wasn't one. Footsteps echoed in the hall, signaling someones approach. Castiel quickley ducked into the shadows and waited. The footsteps crept closer and then stopped just outside his cell door. He heard the jingling of keys, a clack, and then a creaking of metal that signaled his door had been opened. The footsteps moved closer and stopped just inside.

  
"I know you're awake, Cas." it was Dean. "Come on out. I got somthin' I wanna show you."

  
Warily, Castiel stood and crept out of the shadows. If he didn't do as Dean asked, he knew the kind of punishment he was in for. Dean smiled at him, almost gently, his eyes green and shining in the low light. Castiel thought maybe that was an attempt to get his guard down and tried not to let it work. Dean lifted a finger and made a "come here" motion with it before turning and leaving the cell, turning left, and walking down the hallway. Castiel followed.

  
As he walked, Castiel kept a close watch on Dean and prepared to make a run for it if he needed to. He was startled when Dean suddenly started talking.

  
"You see, Cas, once Sammy and I took control of Hell we started gettin' ideas." He glanced back. "Ideas about you."

  
When Castiel said nothing he turned back toward the hall. "We thought, 'If he's half human, what do you think Hell would do to that weak little human part of his soul?' and we decided that we wanted to find out exactly what would happen." He stopped in front of a large metal door and pulled out his keys, turning to unlock it. Castiel stayed back, fear pricking his skin and every bone in his body screaming at him to run, but he stood still.

  
The door opened and Dean stepped back, gesturing for Castiel to enter first. Gathering any courage he had left, Castiel walked past Dean - tensing and expecting some kind of violent contact - and through the door. He found himself in a white room with a medical chair in the center and a cart of various nasty looking weapons next to it. That snapped something inside of Castiel and he whipped around, intent on bullrushing Dean out of his way and making a run for it, but the door was gone. A white wall was in it's place and Dean was standing next to the now-empty space.

  
"Relax, man." Dean said. "That chair isn't for you. At least, not if you don't want it to be."

  
From behind Castiel there was a creaking and the sound of chains and a struggle. He turned to find Sam hauling a man over his shoulder into the room. Sam threw the man into the chair and snapped his fingers. The chair instantly restrained the man tightly, gag included. Then Sam looked at Castiel.

  
"We have a deal to offer you." Sam said. "And since you spent all that time with us in the bunker on Earth, I thought it was only fair to offer it to you first thing when you got here." The man in the chair made a strangled noise and struggled to get free. Sam walked around to the other side of the chair to the weapons cart and picked a large, but elegant looking knife before walking over to Castiel. "So, here's our offer: Either be like him and get tortured by us for an eternity, or..." Castiel jumped when Sam grabbed his hand. Sam pried Castiel's fingers open and wrapped them around the handle. He grasped the blade and Castiel's hand tightly and pulled him in, inches away from his face. "Or...you can do the torturing."

  
"As a bonus," Dean spoke up, "You'll have us." Dean walked up to the angel and wrapped his arms around his waist and put his head on his shoulder. Castiel wrenched his eyes away from Sam to look at Dean. "We have all these souls down here to torture now, so we won't be needing to tear you apart on the regular like we were. Think about it, Cas. We can be a team again."

  
"Besides, we know how you really feel about us." Sam leaned in close and touched Castiel's cheek so gently it was terrifying. "So, what do you say?"   
They let Castiel go and gestured to the man in the chair. Castiel stood over him, brandishing the knife weakly. All he ever wanted was to be with the Winchester's. He had given everything for them, they had taken so much more. And now he had one chance to get what he wanted, to be a part of the family. They were giving him a chance and to him that spoke volumes. His boys were still in there.

  
He took a deep breath.

  
"I...I'm sorry." he whispered, before plunging the knife deep into the man's belly.


	6. Epilogue

An angel stands alone in a cemetary. This is where his target was last spotted, not more than an hour ago. A rogue angel kidnapping and killing his own brothers.

  
"I know you're still here!" the angel calls. "You're waiting for me to let my guard down." There's a rustling sound behind him and he turns. From the shadows emerges a ragged looking man with dishevled hair and...wings?

  
The man steps forward and the angel recognizes him immediately.

  
"Castiel? I thought you were dead. What happened to you?" the angel can see that it is his old friend and brother, but something is wrong. Just beneath the surface he can see Castiel's Grace and what appears to be a soul and it's dark and knotted and cloudy.

  
Castiel walks towards the angel, their eyes locked together. "I spent the last thousand years in hell." he says matter-of-factly, and when he blinks his eyes change from pools of sky to a deep navy blue that engulfs and clouds the entire eye.

  
The angel reels back in shock and falls to the ground. Castiel is on him in moments and holds him by the collar of his suit.

  
_"Toebah!"_ the angel shouts, before his own blade is plunged into his chest.

  
Castiel drops the body to the ground along with the blade and walks away, smiling.

  
"I find that term offensive." he says. And then he's gone.

 

_**end** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toebah loosely translates to "abomination" in Hebrew from what my research tells me. It was the best word I could come up with.


End file.
